Dare Disturb the Universe
by Aidara
Summary: First loves don't always take you where you expect to go. (Mild RLSB)


Sirius' first love was a quiet, red-haired Hufflepuff girl. Well, she didn't become a Hufflepuff until several hours after Sirius saw her for the first time on the first train to school, but that was how he came to think of her after that merciful time in which they were all more or less in the same boat. There was nothing very special about her, nothing that called attention to her solitary figure in the corner of the train compartment and later, the carriage. But that was why Sirius noticed her. She was the antithesis of all the females he had ever been marginally close to: unassuming, shy, her head resting on the heel of her small, unadorned hand. That presence, or lack thereof, was what drew the raucous, intrusive boy into that particular compartment to sit, fidgeting, hoping that she would acknowledge his presence beyond a simple "hello." He managed to learn her name and a few other small details before another black-haired boy threw open the compartment door and announced that every other one was full so could Sirius move over a bit? The old boisterous Sirius was back in the blink of an eye in the presence of this newcomer who, upon close inspection, was obviously Spiffing and Much Better To Get To Know than this _girl_.

A matter of hours later, the girl had been Sorted into Hufflepuff. The Hat had told Sirius that there was "no hope whatsoever" for him in Hufflepuff and had put him in an unexpected place that really made him a bit scared (though he would never in a million years admit that, and besides, that James bloke was in this house, so it couldn't be all bad, could it?) After a day or two, he had all but forgotten about the Hufflepuff. After all, she _was_ just a girl.

Peter's first love was Calliope Clearwater, who quickly established herself as one of the popular girls when she "accidentally" left her B-cup bra on one of the armchairs in the Gryffindor common room. She was considered beautiful in the way that butterflies are generally held in high regard: ordinary enough creatures whose distracting wings are the only parts of them that are ever paid any attention. Peter eventually made her into his own false idol, an intangible thing from which there came no real response, to be admired and worshipped from a distance, for no other reason than that she seemed incandescent. He kept his secret infatuation hidden even from James, in whom he couldn't help but confide most of the time.

Finally, on Valentine's Day in his third year, Peter summoned the courage to ask her to go to Hogsmeade with him. He didn't even ask for advice from Sirius, who claimed to have already snogged three girls in the Astronomy tower by that time. Calliope stared at him for a few seconds in which Peter could almost feel himself shrink into the stone of that school that had seen so many similar occurrences over the centuries. Then she laughed in his face, said "no thanks," and walked away.

James' first love was Lily Evans. Well actually, if he were to be perfectly honest with himself, it was probably that girl in his class at the village school that he had attended before Hogwarts. Or it might have been that neighbor of his who moved away when James was nine. But really, those hadn't been love. Not like what began the first time he knocked over Lily's ink bottle onto her essay while he and Sirius were chasing each other around the common room with Gobstones enchanted to squirt anywhere on command. Never before had any girl's angry shout actually had the shouter's desired effect over him. And as soon as he learned that anger was not the reaction one wanted to incite when looking for reciprocation of love, he enjoyed being the exception to all normal rules by marrying Lily Evans.

Remus' first love was a Ravenclaw with short-ish black hair and bright grey eyes. Remus sometimes watched the Ravenclaws surreptitiously to see if there were any similarities between them and him; he frequently wondered if the Sorting Hat hadn't made a grand slip-up in putting him where he was. Remus was drawn to her unusually outgoing disposition, as seemed to be the way with him and such people. Her natural abilities in Potions gave him the perfect opportunity to get to know her by asking her for tutoring. But, though she was always helpful with schoolwork, she was only ever formal and _nice _to Remus, systematically ignoring the increasingly less subtle advances he made to hint that he felt something for her.

His last desperate gambit was to wait for what seemed like an opportune moment before leaning over the mortar on which she was powdering scarab beetles and kissing her full on the mouth. Oddly enough, he found that he wasn't very disappointed, after all, when she blinked twice and told him calmly that she was sorry, but she didn't feel that way about him. Remus realized that, after all that time, it was all right. He finally saw that she wasn't really what he wanted, anyway.

Unfortunately, it wasn't until September of 1981 that he realized why. And by then, Sirius wasn't talking to him much. There was the occasional brief meeting to discuss how things were progressing with the Order, but they hardly ever talked of their personal lives anymore; they had gone disappointingly separate ways in the last few months.

The day before Halloween, Sirius showed up unannounced in the fireplace of Remus' sad little flat. Instead of sprawling on the worn-out sofa as he usually did, Sirius stood in front of the Floo, wringing his hands a bit and looking anywhere but at Remus.

"I've decided to do it."

"What?" Remus stared at the other man's uneasy figure as comprehension dawned.

"I'm going to be the Secret Keeper. I have to. There's no other way." The answer was rushed and quiet. Rehearsed. "I just thought you should know."

It was not in Remus' nature to shout what immediately came to mind, to tell Sirius that he couldn't do it, that he would be killed, that Remus cared too much to let him do that to himself. Instead, understanding that no one would ever be persuaded by such feeble and selfish arguments, he nodded slowly and swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Please be careful."

For the first time, Sirius looked him straight in the eye, and then quickly looked away again.

"Oh, don't tell me you couldn't somehow manage to live without little old me." He stared at the floor, looking grim.

"But that's just it, Padfoot." Sirius twitched at the affectation. "I don't want to have to _manage_."

Sirius blew a derisive huff of air through his nose and opened his mouth to say something but never managed, as he didn't look up in time to stop Remus from coming forward and kissing him. And before Remus even knew what he was doing, Sirius was kissing him back. And it was good and right and not nearly everything that Remus had ever wanted and then, abruptly, it was over. Sirius pulled away, a look of shock coming over his face.

"I…I'm…sorry." And then, without explanation, he disappeared with a sharp crack.

And the next day, when the unthinkable happened, when the world tilted on its axis, Remus felt nothing. There was nothing left to feel _about_.

And much later, when everything that had been misunderstood, of deception and doubt and fear and war, everything was explained with a single look, a single embrace, Remus thought that maybe this, this sensation, this peace, of which he had almost forgotten he was capable, maybe this could be beautiful.


End file.
